“Fred? Is that you? Gosh, I haven’t seen you in years. How’s it going, big fellow? Are you still in sales?”

“You betcha, Harry.”

“But who do you work for these days? Surely, you’re not with Enron anymore.”

“Oh, no. I got out of there before they could pin anything on me. I’m freelancing theses days. And loving it, I might add.”


“You bet. I make my own hours, and I set my own income. If I need more money, say, to buy tickets for Tony Furtado or Gomez, I just put in a few more hours, and bingo! I’m off to Ticketmaster.”

“Still going to shows, eh?”

“More than ever before, Harry. Freelancing is the best thing that ever happened to me. Heck, I have more money for tickets now then I ever did when I was busting sales records by talking up fake energy shortages at Enron. Last week I saw Gloria Estefan, and this week I’m going to see Metallica and that Alan Jackson / Martina McBride co-headline. In fact, I’ve seen over 12 shows in the last eight weeks alone, including David Byrne, Heart and Hilary Duff.”

“So, tell me, Fred, how does this freelance sales gig work?”

“Cold calls, Harry. Everything is a cold call. I just walk up to a prospective client, hit them with my patented sales pitch, and wham! Another customer, another wad of money in my pocket and another round of concert tickets. For instance, just this morning I closed a deal that will pay my way to see Neil Diamond in Australia next March. And yesterday I made enough money to see Madonna next month in Paris.”

“Sounds as if life is pretty good for you, Fred.”

“Life is fantastic, Harry. I should have started this freelance thing years ago. I have more money than ever before, I’m seeing shows like Social Distortion, Keith Urban and , and best of all, I’m my own boss. Furthermore… Furthermore…”

“Yes, Fred?”

“Uh, just a second, Harry. I see a prospective client walking up the street right now, and, well, I’ve got my eye on a pair of choice seats for Van Halen in Florida during the first week of September and…”

“You gotta do what you gotta do, Fred. Knock ’em dead.”

“I always do. Hey! You over there! That’s right, you in the tweed sports jacket who just stepped out of the Mercedes. May I have a word with you? It will only take a second.”

“Er… Yes?”

“Stick ’em up!”